When I was younger, my uncles took a strange delight in telling "Pete and Repeat" stories to me. If you haven't been fortunate enough to hear one of these nuggets, they all kind of take the same form:

"Pete and Repeat are walking across an old, rickety bridge. Pete falls into the river. Who's left?""Repeat.""Pete and Repeat are walking..."

Now, the crucial piece of this story is to have a listener who obliges by answering "Repeat" at each point where the teller asks "Who's left?" The odd thing about my uncles' telling and retelling of this joke was that never once, not once, did I respond with "Repeat." The very first time I heard it and every time after, when the question was posed, that crucial moment that the jest hangs on, I responded, "Well, no one... Repeat would just fall in right after him." I was three. I still remember their frustration over my failng to play their game.

I pretty much did the same thing to my uncles whenever they tried shit like that on me. Like the time I was at a baseball game and they asked what I wanted, of course I replied "an orange," not realizing that it wasn't an option.